Kings & Sirs
by AelysAlthea
Summary: Cats had never been part of the plan. But then again, who knew what the plan was anyway?
1. Chapter 1 - Sir

**Summary**: Cats had never been part of the plan. But then again, who knew what the plan was anyway?

**Rating**: G

**Tags**: Post-canon, Multiple POV, Domestic Fluff, Cats

* * *

**Chapter 1: Sir**

The cat did not like to be wet. Not in the least. What cat would?

The cat thought of this. Crouched beneath the leaning awning, ears flattened and forehead slick with sticking droplets, it thought of this fact, new it as surely as it knew that birds were flighty and delectable. It knew this as it knew that the giant, metallic beasts that roared down the blackened paths were fast, and cruel, and crushed little kittens that were too slow and too stupid to know when it was time to flee.

The cat knew this. It had seen this, seen the brothers and sisters as they scrambled and failed to duck away from the hulking predators, failed to scavenge a morsel or two from the secret hordes buried in dark corners of buildings and down shadowed alleyways. The cat knew this as surely as it did that water came from the sky, that it was wet, and that the cat did _not_ like to be wet.

Unfortunately, the wet hadn't a care for what the cat liked.

The awning the cat crouched beneath wasn't big enough. It was too sloping, punctured with too many holes, and hung too high overhead to properly block the diagonal cascade of the water plummeting from above. Even huddled on its haunches, neck tucked and knees pinned close to its body, the cat could not escape the wet.

The wet was cold. It was seeping. It fell heavier then lighter then heavier again. It sprayed in a vicious wave as the hulking beasts on the black path careened too close, sweeping the puddles from the gutters and washing him with a wet that did not need to be washing the cat. It did not need nor want it. It did _not_.

But the awning was high. The water fell, cold and wet. The beasts on the black path continued to swerve past, and to run… to move away and seek better shelter was…

As the splatter of another wave swept over it, the cat couldn't withhold a protest. A feeble complaint warbled from its maw, quivering its jaw, and all but begged for the cold and the wet to stop. Why was the sky falling with water? Why did such atrocities arise when the cat had nothing but a pathetic awning for cover? It was not fair. It was _not._

Food would be nice. A little jumping bird maybe. There was never enough food and satiation could never be reached. The cat's belly mumbled complaints but there was nothing that could be done. The cat could surely not move out into the wet. It was far too… wet.

"Well fuck, aren't you pathetic?"

The cat twitched. Blinking, twitching, with whiskers quivering, the cat squinted up at the human that appeared from behind the sheet of torrential rain. Humans were tall and this one was no exception. They passed with their long legs and their clopping feet, never glancing down below to the creatures that wove and wound below, ducking from view. The cat was satisfied with this; not the wet nor the cold but the humans and their predatory eyes turned elsewhere.

Except that this one wasn't. It wasn't turned elsewhere at all but instead fastened hooded eyes upon the cat.

Fur nearly white covered only its head. White skin peeked through what wasn't covered by the black fur coating its limbs and trunk. Its front paws were hidden, tucked against its belly in the folds of its belly-fur in the way that humans did, but that it had hidden its claws was no comfort. The cat knew that humans didn't often look down but that they sometimes struck with a kick of a foot nonetheless. Sometimes spat with a bark like a dog, cursing and chasing away.

This human didn't bark. It grumbled in a low growl that set the cat's fur on end, ruffling its neck in a prickly mane. _Away, _the cat silently ordered the human. _Don't touch. Don't hurt._

"Here again?" the human growled.

The cat tucked its neck further.

"That's a poor excuse for a shelter you've got there. Of all the places you could have chosen you pick the one that is practically useless. What stupidity struck that tiny head of yours?"

The cat mewed. _Go away_, it demanded, right alongside a pleading _don't hurt me, _and warning_ I am small, but I will bite._

"Truly pathetic," the human said. Then it exhaled, a plume of white swirled from its mouth. Its lips pursed. It shifted in place, leaning to one side and staring at the cat without blinking. The cat stared back, wouldn't risk looking away because humans –

Humans kicked. They barked. They often passed without incident, but humans were dangerous and unpredictable. It served to be wary of the humans.

Except that wariness could not save the cat when humans reached with fast, darting paws.

The cat mewed as it was snatched up from the ground. It flexed its claws, stabbed and kicked and mewed again, but the human held fast. It rose, straightened, and before the cat could scramble free it was engulfed into the warm folds of the human's dark fur.

Dark fur. Warm fur. Dry fur, without a hint of the wet.

The cat froze. Its claws were flexed but it ceased kicking. Eyes wide and staring, it blinked into the darkness of the human's close contact. _Thump, thump, thump_ went the heartbeat in the human's chest so close, the beat like a drum so loud it quivered the cats ears. Too loud, even. Far louder than the cat's mother. Too… loud?

It didn't serve to trust humans and the cat wouldn't trust this one any more than any other. But for a brief second, with the escape from the cold and the wet, the encompassing warm and the dry, it paused. It didn't struggle as the human rocked into motion, even if a primal part of the cat demanded to be free. For just that moment, the cat would allow it. Just this once.

* * *

"Andrew," Neil said, setting the bag of groceries onto the kitchen bench.

Andrew didn't reply but Neil felt him glance up from the television. Not that Neil returned his gaze. His attention was reserved for the intruder in their kitchen. "There's a cat."

"Mm," was all Andrew replied.

"A cat in our kitchen."

"That's very observant of you."

Shuffling forward a step, Neil eyed the tiny creature where it wolfed down a bowl of what appeared to be more fish than could feasibly fit in its belly. A tiny creature, fur spiked with remnants of wetness, its ears were slightly flattened along its head and eyes flickering in quick darts up towards Neil. But it didn't slow in its chewing.

A tiny, bedraggled, and rake thin cat. A cat in their apartment. A cat whose presence could only have one possible explanation.

Neil turned from the kitchen and made for the living room. He planted himself directly before Andrew, blocking his view of the television. Not that Andrew seemed to care; he appeared quite capable of seeing through Neil at each and every attempt at blocking he made.

"Why have you brought a cat into the house?" he asked.

Andrew didn't raise his head from where it rested atop his hand, his elbow propped on the arm of the chair. "It was a pathetic lost cause. Practically drowning outside."

"So you decided to bring it inside?"

"I've been known to invest in lost causes."

Neil let the pointed comment pass without acknowledgement, shooting a glance towards the kitchen once more. The cat's short tail poked out from behind the counter, the only part of it visible, and it was as thin and scraggly as the rest of it. "We're not keeping a cat," Neil said.

"I never said we were," Andrew replied, blinking lazily at the television through the barrier of Neil's body.

"Put it back where you got it from."

"It was outside."

"So?"

"It's been outside for three days straight."

"You're attempting to make a point that doesn't hold any weight."

Finally, Andrew's gaze rose to meet Neil's. "It's raining like the Great Flood out there. Haven't you heard Renee's retellings? Noah's ark hasn't got the space for every animal so I'm simply doing my part."

Neil stared down at him. Sarcasm laced Andrew's bored tone so thickly that there was no way he could be anything but joking, anything but pulling a prank of sorts with the taunting amusement that Neil still sometimes couldn't quite identify. He would have assumed as much too if not for the evidence of the truth currently crouched and gorging itself on fish barely a room away.

Slowly, Neil drew his gaze towards the flicking cat's tail. He didn't care for animals. They weren't repulsive but there was no particular draw in their furry faces and soft paws. He hadn't been able to quite understand the appeal when Matt gushed adoringly about his adopted mutt, nor when Allison wandered around her house with her flat with her own cat draped over her shoulders.

He'd always considered Andrew to be of a similar mind. There was no appeal and, more than that, they were an additional hassle that wasn't needed. Especially not with a career as a professional athlete and regular travel to accommodate. It wasn't worth it, and Neil would never have anticipated Andrew would falter at such a particular interest.

Pathetic. Bedraggled. Rangy and in dire need of help despite its wariness and sidelong glare. Neil didn't understand the appeal and no more wanted a cat than he had minutes before, but with a brief moment of thought he considered it might not have been so unexpected that Andrew would tuck the creature under his wing.

Folding his arms, Neil turned back to Andrew. "You're really going to keep a cat?"

"I never said that," Andrew said, though the sharpness of his gaze as he met Neil's eyes bespoke more than the nonchalant façade he postured with.

"You didn't need to," Neil muttered, mostly to himself. "When have you ever asked for anyone's permission?"

"Precisely," Andrew drawled in reply, and it was a simple word that said as much as Neil needed to hear.

He didn't want a cat. He certainly didn't need one. Something as trivial as a pet had never been on Neil's bucket list of desires and it certainly hadn't been added upon the unexpected appearance of Andrew's cat. But, as he stepped into the kitchen and around the creature grumbling with delighted noises as it stuffed its face, Neil couldn't bring himself to care. Only…

"I'm not looking after it," Neil said as he began unpacking the groceries. "If you're keeping it, you're the one taking care of it."

"Did I at any stage suggest I needed your help?" Andrew replied.

Neil snorted. It was as much of an admission as he was likely to get from Andrew. Shaking his head, Neil shot the squat little cat a glance. "You're one lucky bastard that he's taken a liking to you."

The cat didn't reply, but Neil didn't expect it to. People had a habit of never appreciating what they had beneath the protective weight of Andrew's protection. Maybe it was only a cat, but Neil found himself reminded of that fact in an entirely unexpected fashion.


	2. Chapter 2 - King

**Chapter 2: Kings**

This cat was regal. It was cool, and calm, and composed.

It had also once been of the mind that The Outdoors was more suitable lodgings than any four walls could provide. Nothing, no gourmet servings nor beds folded from soft clouds, could tempt it from the freedom of roaming and the distance from the questionable hands of humans. This cat had realised as much when one hit became two and one missed dinner became a lack of dinners entirely, only replaceable by this cat's hunting expertise on the more generous streets.

The Outdoors were far superior to any Indoor confines. This cat knew this. But then, why did the Indoors from one particular chosen throne appear so devilishly inviting?

This cat had many thrones but there was one that was greater than the rest. Good for bird watching and good for cat watching. Good for eyeing the humans passing below without being spied in return. It was tucked out of sight of the wind and modestly covered from the rain should it be anything but horizontal sleet. Even the sun managed to make an appearance, beaming onto the concrete seat in the middle afternoon and bathing it in warmth.

It was a good throne, and this cat ruled from it. Or it had until the Other Cat appeared Indoors, barely a barrier of thin glass away.

It was a small creature, but it rapidly grew larger. Grew fatter and more comfortable, more confident, in its taunting. It appeared in the window behind this cat's throne to challenge with a stare and taunt of lips licked and the smell of fish pervading through the cracks around the glass. This cat would not cower, would not retreat from its throne, but the Other Cat…

It owned the Indoors. The Indoors behind the throne with the shade, and the sun, and the perfect viewpoint for staring and presiding. The Other Cat owned it more surely than this cat could because the Other Cat? It roamed in both the Indoors _and _the Outdoors. This cat could smell the musky scent of it coating its throne from the evenings it left the seat unfilled.

This cat did not regret. It did not long for the home of kicks and no dinners. It had been content to remain without, Outdoors, and picking at the leavings of the humans that dumped and discarded, dropping morsels deliberately or by chance. It sufficed and this cat –

This cat was content. But the Other Cat had more, and this cat was not satisfied with the second rung. Not in the least.

This cat hadn't a plan. Cats did not plan for such things; cats observed and waited for opportunity to present itself before snatching it up with sharp claws and sharp teeth before it could slither away. It was known and this cat waited for just that. As it happened, it was in short order that opportunity presented itself.

When the scent of the Other Cat, the Indoors cat, stained this cat's throne, but it could do nothing. This cat assumed its regal seat, presiding over the path beneath with its passing humans, its birds, its occasional foreign or familiar cat who dared cross below. One such day passed like any other, nothing of note to disrupt this cat from its observations. Nothing to suggest that it would be any different to any other day.

Except it was. For once, for the first time when this cat remained upon its throne, casual observation was disrupted by the opening of the window.

A flinch, shrinking onto its haunches, and this cat snapped its attention towards the direction of the intruder. Or the extruder, as it were, for the face of the Other Cat peered and poked through the window. The Other Cat did not leap forth, however. It hadn't the chance, for barely was the window opened and the face of a human appeared behind it.

"No, Sir," the human said, scooping the Other Cat up in its front paws and manoeuvring it away from the window. "Don't pick a fight on the balcony when we both know you'd lose. Learn to choose your battles better."

The human spoke with careless disregard. Not a growl, not a grumble nor a snap, and directly to the Other Cat. The Other Cat mewed as its rotund body was hauled from the window out of sight, and when it was, this cat remained with only the human in sight. The human who paused and turned its way.

"Don't piss off Andrew's cat," it said, as though this cat cared to understand and reply. "I'll kick you off if you cause trouble."

This cat twitched. Humans were curious but deadly. It didn't serve to get too close.

"You're smaller than Sir," the human said. "A street cat."

This cat sunk onto its haunches, preparing for flight.

"Whatever. I don't know why I care. I still don't like cats."

This cat still didn't reply. Why would it? It stared as the human regarded it for a moment before disappearing from the window. It waited as the emptiness persisted, waited for a chance return of the human or the Other Cat, and flinched when the human resurfaced. Only to twitch with renewed interest as a wafting, delectable aroma flared its nostrils.

A metal bowl was placed almost too close, the human's paw so near that this cat could have mauled it with barely a lunge and a fierce bite. But it didn't lunge. It didn't maul. It eyed the bowl of mashed delectables, eyed the human, and it waited. Waited. Waited some more as the human watched it.

"Whatever," the human finally said. "See if I care what you do with it. Not my problem."

The human turned and left. The bowl remained. It was only when that bowl was empty that this cat realised the window was still propped ajar. The Other Cat had not reappeared, and the threat of the human still loomed close at hand, but retreat?

This cat was not foolish, but it would not pass up an opportunity when it presented itself. Cats did not plan but they opened wide their maw when chance presented itself. This cat settled onto its throne once more and let opportunity wash over it.

* * *

Steam followed Andrew from the bathroom as he stepped through the door. Hot steam from a hot shower, chasing away the scum of the court that hadn't been wiped clean by the hasty locker room wash. Scrubbing his head with his towel, he made his way down the hallway towards the kitchen, vague thoughts of an afternoon coffee and an early dinner drifting by inattentively.

Only to stop short barely halfway to the living room.

Neil stood at the edge of the kitchen counter. A mug of his own coffee was in his hand, a magazine spread before him, and he sipped with the kind of absent-mindedness that bespoke only vague awareness of his surroundings. Dressed down in sweatpants and a loose shirt, there was nothing unusual about the sight of him –

Except for the cat stationed at his feet, right behind his heel. A cat that wasn't Andrew's and had no business being in their apartment.

Andrew didn't move as he stared at the pair of them. Where Sir Fat Cat was he didn't know, but it hardly mattered for the moment. What was more important was the cat that stared up at Neil with the open-faced attentiveness of a domestic, silent and watchful, before reaching a paw out to gently nudge Neil's his heel.

Neil glanced down at it. "What?" he asked. Casual and natural, there was no surprise in his voice. "You've invited yourself inside today, then?"

The cat mewed, a faint chirp that was barely audible.

"I'm not feeding you again. You've already had enough today."

The cat poked his heel again.

"No. We had an agreement. Don't get overconfident or I'm kicking you out."

If a cat could understand human words, Andrew would believe it of the creature at Neil's feet. He could almost believe it huffed, disgruntled, as it retracted its poking paw. Neil eyed it for a moment longer before picking up his magazine and turning towards the living room out of sight of the doorway. He'd disappeared by the time he continued. "Have some courtesy and let me know when you're leaving today, would you? I don't want the window open all night again."

Another chirruping mew met Neil's words as if in response as the cat followed after him, tail raised and kinked. Andrew could only blink silently at the vacated end of the hallway. That was… unexpected. Not necessarily that Neil was speaking to a cat, for pretend as he might Andrew had overheard as much from him to Sir on occasion before, but the cat? The unfamiliar cat that appeared more than comfortable wandering around their apartment?

Scrubbing his head with his towel once more, Andrew slowly continued down the hallway. He didn't spare Neil a glance as he passed the living room into the kitchen, making for the coffee machine, but almost couldn't help but address him nonetheless.

"You," he said loud enough to be heard from the other room, "are a fucking hypocrite, Josten."

Just when they'd both decided an apartment practically overrun with cats was a good idea, Andrew didn't know. He wasn't sure he wanted to know either. Maybe he was getting soft, but there was something vaguely validating about the fact that Neil had fallen prey to a stray cat as well. At least Andrew wasn't the sole pathetic sucker of the two of them.


End file.
